Crystal
by Solari Crystal
Summary: If one were to wander for eternity the universe? If one were to suffer alone? If one never found the salvation and the exit? If one just hung on by a thread...
1. Chapter 1

Crystal

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

The rain droplets hit the ground with a steady rhythm, never letting down and always keeping up. The breeze that washed over made everything cold as it was wet. The dark atmosphere was gloomy and heavy.

He'd like to think everything had hope. But from here, that perspective was an illusion, a fake image within an already impossible terrain.

What had that picture been called? The picture in the carnival?

Eerily Abandon. That's how it was called. It had been a sculpture actually. A sculpture of a shadow being banished to the unknown while being watched by possibly it's friends and family.

At that time he had thought nothing of it, just an overly sad sculpture. Now it felt like he was living it.

He'd like to think he had plenty but not really. It was only him and solitude itself. He could do nothing to get off this place. Sometimes it felt like he was relieving some sort of bad memory.

Was this a bad memory? Or an illusion?

But it couldn't be. It had been years and years, and he hasn't aged one single bit. He had watched as trees grew from saplings to mighty trees. He had watched as humans came and went.

No illusion could be like that, and neither could a nightmare or memory.

It was still raining. It always rained here. It became flooded in some parts and others were completely eroded by the ever falling water droplets, lightning and thunder rarely came. There was no reason to feel anger in this place.

Only sadness and abandonment. That was all.

Nothing else. Just that.

The drumming sound that usually came when he walked along the bend of this path was unusually deep this time. The ferns and grasses danced with the breeze despite being pelted and weighed down by collected water. It as strange- this place.

Despite that he memorized it all. His favorite place was an empty clearing where the very center held a big flower, a lily. It was the only bright place in the rainy place.

What that flower meant, it was a mystery, one that he wasn't particularly interested in finding. It just wasn't worth it. If he found something that rose his hopes only to smash it into _oblivion_...he would no doubt forget everything.

This place had enough secrets. He knew that early on, almost thousands of years before, he had been one of those sorts that never let a small challenge beat them.

Misery was a thing learned here. You learned it whether you wanted it or not. It was just a matter of time and will. He'd taken thousands of years. Maybe better than others in that fact, he didn't know, he didn't care.

He sighed, his face showing a cold emotion in between emotionless and dead. Things never changed here. They stayed the same; they did, except the water. The water was always rising.

If it ever did connect the skies and the earth, the rain would complete another level of destruction. Maybe he would die then, maybe not. He should.

He deserved it.

He did destroy the universe. He destroyed everything. Everything but this. This place was the only one he left alone. It held the only memories that kept him grounded. But it as being destroyed. Destroyed by the waters of suffering and self-loathing.

They would never go away. They would never fade.

The soft patters of the droplets always seemed soothing. He loved the rain. It certainly beat desert and heat. But in here he was always soaked to the bone. Always soaked to the bone.

Murmuring listlessly like always, he dragged his indifferent gaze towards the sky. It was a mirror. A mirror with a world on its own, yet it still reflected his world and still looked pretty, with orange and purple hues in the mornings, baby blues in the afternoons and yellow and orange in the afternoons.

And it was the only way out of here and into a destruction. But then this place would break. If he left it would slowly die off and it would erase.

Still murmuring, he walked atop puddles, muddy tails, and soaked green grass to rest near a piece of shimmering glass. It was the sky. The sky was breaking.

Inwardly he sighed with relief, sparing the plains behind him with bliss.

Not long now.

Not long before it was all over.

A bit of sky dislodged and clunked into a puddle. The sparkle shinning from behind the sky made him think that maybe there was something other than destruction on the other side.

'Nor the skies or the earth will ever meet, you know that!'

Maybe they had been right.

Good thing it wouldn't be too long now.

He'd be free then.

'_And a thousand years passed and the soul left, but a flower and a shine broke thorough, and even with no soul, the shadow became light.' _

It had been a story back home, sung by warm tones, holding a cup of warm droplets and warm sky shines.

_'And a thousand years happened, and it struck, leaving pity and sadness. No line of sorrow and no line of evil could ever catch the wandering shell.' _

Had it really never been a nightmare?

_'And so a thousand years went, and the line brought back essence. A bit of blue, a bit of black, but not a single shell.' _

_'Thus a thousand years were counted and the line was cast again, and a piece of sky did it bring, along with grasses and lilies,' _

_'A dreamer lives on for eternity, but a mighty long that is, and for every gift a prize is asked, and so the dreams blurred and became one.' _

_'And a million years passed, and eternity became a cage and the lily once again grew for it fed upon the gray.' _

_'And so eternity became a curse, a dream. And so eternity became freed and the heart became the mind and so death once again struck.'_

_'And so with eternity, blood and hearts and souls were gifted, to satisfy the never ending curse upon which a dreamer sought to find.' _

_'And so the heart died and eternity became a dream in which the dreamer lived. And so the soul left and the line was cast to catch the mere remnant of the shell.' _

_'The eternity then became less and the curse was lifted and the hells were stopped and the line was cast and the soul was returned and the shell met. And the dreamer met the mirror.' _

He'd finally be free after thousands of thousands of years.

And then pain was all he felt, and despite it being pain; it was a welcome sensation.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing

"I _hate_ rain."

That single comment did little to rouse other figure huddled at the corner. But it did gain the attention of the figure.

"Why?"

"You know why..."

Never in his existence would he have ever considered the fact that he would...ally himself to a traitor he had helped defeat a long, long time ago.

"Hmm..."

He hated Muken. Muken was _everything_ in here, it was the wall, the floor and the roof. Muken was a nightmare. He hated those who took care of Muken. They made it a game to play with the minds of both him and his companion.

"I hate them." The figure muttered, no real hate in his voice. It was only an empty monotone. Like his.

"_And so the heart died and eternity became a dream in which the dreamer lived. And so the soul left and the line was cast to catch the mere remnant of the shell._" He repeated from the recesses of his mind.

"How much time do you think already passed since this last one?" The figure asked.

He scoffed tiredly, no trace of the fire that had once run through his veins years ago. He would say millions but he wasn't sure. Maybe it was thousands. "Many years."

"I hate immortality." The figure rasped.

And for some reason that comment seemed to hold so much amusement. So he laughed. First time in years that he laughed. Perhaps this time he was going to lose his mind. Things were always not funny. It could be serious, it could be sad, it could be angry ones, but it was never funny.

And he was suddenly remembered of the times before...way before. Auburn hair, a giant, glasses. A white coat, black hair, more auburn hair. Violet eyes, red hair, petals, ice. White hair, a hat, a cat, getas.

But like all times he pushed it back. He didn't want to see more pain; if there was indeed more pain. He didn't want to know about those colors and objects. He didn't want anything to do with those things. There was nothing else but his companion, Muken, and torture.

He didn't need anymore problems.

"More waiting."

Sighing warily, Captain Rukia Kuchiki signed the last of the paperwork on her desk. As soon as she saw that I was the last batch, she rose quickly, for fear of more arriving, and left via the window.

Using a quick Shunpo, she arrived without problems at her favorite place. Pity it wasn't her own house; it had never been since a long time.

"I never realized what I had until I lost it." She whispers, admiring the temporal home of the one and only Urahara Kisuke.

His house was the only place where she could forget everything and smile at the same time.

"Urahara-San?" Her voice seemed to carry out into the whole house, she just hoped it was enough to bring the man out of whatever project she knew he was making.

A special project that could bring back her dead friend.

"Ah! Kuchiki-San! What a joy, I was just about to go and fetch you." Lazily waltzing into the main room, the geta-wearing man smiled mysteriously from under his hat.

"Mhhm? Fetch me? Why?" She asked confused.

The annoying fan came out, slowly waving in front of the still-shopkeeper's face. She hated that fan, it always made Urahara's face harder to interpreter. Only one person hated that fan more than she did and he wasn't here even though he should be.

"We'll wouldn't you like to talk to a little caged birdy? Maybe even take it out?"

Her eyes widened as she froze.

"What?"


End file.
